Count to Ten
by atticbetweenthestars
Summary: Tony Stark hated to be handed things. So, naturally, when life handed him a major anxiety disorder and a brewing depression, he looked for a way to escape. [TRIGGER WARNING: self harm] All pairings canon, no slash intended, but read into it as you will.
1. Chapter 1

"Cap, you know how I feel about being handed things," Tony said, propping his feet up on the coffee table and sinking back into the couch. Steve rolled his eyes and sighed at the billionaire's lack of urgency for the case he'd been trying to give him.

"This is serious, Stark. I know it's hard for you to think about anyone other than yourself, but there are lives on the line here, and I'd appreciated it if you would at least try and cooperate today," Steve tossed the manila folder onto the table near Tony's feet.

"Y'know, Cap, you should really take up motivational speaking, because you..." Tony leaned forward and grabbed the folder, opening it and glancing over the first couple of notes. Whatever smart comment he had intended to make must have gotten lost on the way out. He focused in on the case file.

S.H.I.E.L.D [CASE 204]

DATE ISSUED 11/12/14

DIVISION ASSIGNED AVENGERS

DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT(S)

Unknown species (presumed extraterrestrial)

believed to be threat to national and possibly

international security. Believed to feed on

human flesh as a form of energy consumption.

Creature is believed to be armed at all times

and dangerous.

DATE OF INCIDENT(S)

7/17/14

7/27/14

8/8/14

9/22/14

10/16/14

11/10/14

KNOWN VICTIM(S)

Tyson Shaw, 13

Lillian Grace, 8

Garrett Edwards, 16

Michael Murdock, 8

Jasmine Cosa, 14

Renna Chan, 10

AGENT(S) ASSIGNED TO CASE

Assembling all Avengers.

Page 1 of 27

"Son of a gun," Tony muttered as he read over the first page of the file. He couldn't bring himself to turn the page. He had enough experience with SHIELD files to know that if there were already known victims of a potential case, the next few pages were all pictures of the crime scene. "They're all kids."

Steve nodded and sighed, biting his lip."Romanoff and Barton say that word around SHIELD is that this creature is somewhere in Jersey," Steve said, "Nobody knows how that rumor got started, but it's always a good place to look. I sent the two of them out there 'bout an hour ago to set up shop."

"Yeah, well, the word around SHIELD was also something along the lines of 'hail hydra' not too long ago. Y'don't see me going around hailing some glorified snake," Tony shook his head. "Jersey's a waste. Get the bird and bug back here before you spend too much time walking towards a dead end."

"Got any better ideas?" Steve questioned him.

"Yes, actually," Tony stood. "And none of them involve mindless gossip in an office breakroom."

The two men stared each other down, neither of them willing to break eye contact until the other did so first. Tony was the first to break, and Steve turned away immediately afterwards, making his way to the elevator.

"Romanoff and Barton stay in Jersey until we get something better to work with," Steve called out over his shoulder. "Read the rest of the file please, Tony. We've got work to do."

And with that, Tony was alone again. With one of the walls being made entirely out of window, one would think that loneliness would be nearly impossible. How could he feel so lonely with a light for every soul in New York city clearly visible from from his couch?

Pepper was at a conference in San Diego, and god did he miss her. He always took her presence for granted when she was with him, only because she was always there. It wasn't until the times where she'd leave town for a while did he realize just how much he really needed her.

"Jarvis," Tony called out.

"Yes, sir?"

"Pepper. D'ya' know what she's up to right now?"

"Last checkpoint on her cellular device was an Italian restaurant approximately 2 blocks from her hotel, but the device is currently powered off. Would you like me to try Ms. Potts' hotel room number?"

"Yeah, thanks Jarvis," Tony sat down on a stool at the bar, spinning in circles as a ringing noise sounded through the speakers on the kitchen ceiling. It rang nine times, and then the call was directed to the front desk for a message to be taken. Tony hung up. "Maybe she's still out."

He drummed lightly on the bar top, trying to find a rhythm in there somewhere at first, but eventually giving up and letting his knuckles slam into the counter. The chair made a sharp screeching noise as it scraped against the floor upon him standing.

Tony dragged his fingers along the wall as he walked the perimeter of the room. He found that walking helped him calm down when he felt an anxiety attack brewing in his chest. He thought of Pepper, and all of the things she could have possibly been doing, and how none of them involved him.

"Alright, Tony, just breathe," He whispered to himself, "Count to ten, and you'll be okay. You're always okay," He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "1...2...3...4-fuck." He collapsed to the floor, clutching his chest. "No no no," Tony brought his head down between his knees as his breath quickened. "J-Jarvis, get help."

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to call Mr. Rogers?"

"No! G-get Bruce. Get Bruce now, please, now," Tony felt light-headed and sick to his stomach.

"Mr. Banner is out tonight, sir. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to call Mr. Rogers? It would be in your best interest."

"You have got to be kidding me, Bruce." Tony's fast paced breathing started to slow, and he hugged his legs tight. "It's okay, Jarvis, don't call anybody. It's okay now."

"Sir, your pills are in the third drawer on your right." and

"Thanks, Jarvis." He lifted his head up and rested it on the wall behind him. With shaky hands, the genius leaned over and opened the drawer, feeling around for the bottle and then clutching it tight. He popped two in his mouth and swallowed hard.

He thought back to high school, and how he had this one friend named Thomas. He was manic, and to stop himself from bouncing off the walls, or just to lessen the pressure inside of him, he would cut himself. He showed Tony the cuts one day, and he thought Thomas was nuts.

"Jarvis, shut down this floor. I don't want anybody up here for the rest of the night." Tony said, and Jarvis complied. The buttons to the left of the elevator that had given off a dim light went black, as well as the arrows above the elevator. He fished around in the kitchen drawers, picking over knives. He found one that was small, the blade no bigger than his middle finger, but it was sharp.

"Would you like me to give Ms. Potts another ring?" Jarvis asked.

"No. I don't want any calls, either. Block all communication. Tell 'em I need alone time to look over some blueprints, if anyone asks." He said, rolling up his pant leg. Tony rested the handle of the knife between his teeth as he rolled up the other.

"Sir, Mr. Banner has arrived. Would you like me to send him up now?" Jarvis interrupted again.

"Uh," Tony hesitated, "No. Nobody," He knew that the feeling wouldn't last long, but the pros column seemed to win, and so he pressed down and watched as the blood bubbled to the surface, and ran down the side of his leg.

* * *

"Mr. Stark, Steve Rogers is on the phone," Jarvis said.

"You know what to tell him," Tony mumbled, re-positioning himself on the couch. He passed out there sometime before 2:30, after cleaning up the mess he'd made on the kitchen floor, and downing a couple shots of absinthe.

"Sir, you said for the rest of the night. It's nearly 7:30 AM." Tony shot up, nearly falling off of the couch.

"Alright, yeah, put him through. Just put him through."

"Stark!" Steve's voice boomed, "I've been trying to reach you for the last half hour. Why is that floor shut down?"

"I needed some Tony-time, Cap," Tony stood and cracked his back. "You sound like you're in need of some alone time yourself there."

"I sure hope your 'Tony-time' involved reading the rest of that case file."

"Um, yeah, yeah, it was definitely top priority. Definitely," Tony called out. He stumbled back into his dusty jeans. Thin, red lines littered the inside of the jean. He was suddenly grateful for the thick material.

"Alright, could you get down here then? We're waiting for you to start the meeting."

"How sweet," Tony pulled on a dingy red shirt, "I'm flattered, really, I'm just not into rushing. Why do you think my Tony-time took all night?"

"Are you sure it wasn't just because you had a hard time waking the other guy up? I can give you a few tips, I'm a professional after all," It was Bruce's voice that he heard now, accompanied by a light chuckle from Thor.

"Tony, just get down here," Tony could hear Steve's eyes rolling.

"I'll get there when I get there," Tony said.

It was only ten minutes later that he arrived, plopping down into one of the swivel room was bright, though the three walls were fairly dark. The fourth, like many of the rooms in the tower, was made entirely out of a window.

The meeting was brief, and Tony didn't see a reason for why they waited for him. It was the same as always; Steve went over tactics and their next move, Tony somehow found a way to make a dick joke or a "steve's so old" joke, Bruce and Thor laughed, and Steve glared at him and continued. SHIELD had a sample of an unknown substance that was found at the crime scene of one of the murders. Tony and Bruce were assigned to figuring out what it was, and where the hell it came from.

"Where were you last night, buddy?" Tony asked Bruce after the meeting.

"Y'know, I was about to ask if you were keeping tabs on me, but then I remembered who you were and I answered my own question," Bruce chuckled.

"I prefer to call it 'semi-invasive and occasionally problematic surveillance'," Tony smirked.

"I was having dinner with an old friend." He shrugged, "Why,did you get a little lonely with your 'Tony-time? Because I know Pepper's not here and all, but I don't think I'm really the guy for the job," Bruce held the conference room door open for him, and they both walked toward the elevator, leaving Thor and Steve behind to chat about the case.

"Nah, I just had a minor attack," Tony shrugged, stepping into the elevator as it opened.

"Oh man, I'm sorry I wasn't here," Bruce put his hand on Tony's shoulder. "How are you doing now?"

"Fine, fine. Took my meds, had a good night's rest."

"What caused it?"

"Probably stress or something. Y'know, the case, Pepper not being here. I don't even know what triggers them anymore." Tony leaned against the wall of the elevator.

"You should meditate with me sometime; it could help." Bruce suggested.

"Nah, I think I'm a bit too straight for that," Tony said, Bruce rolling his eyes. "Plus, I think I found a way to handle it."


	2. Chapter 2

"Why am I even here?" Tony asked, catching the rubber ball he'd been repeatedly throwing at the wall of the lab, "This is more up your alley. I build things, and you figure out why it's possible for things to be built."

"There's not much to be done yet," Bruce started, "But you could help me run some tests."

Tony shook his head, insisting that he was fine supervising. He watched as Bruce ran several tests, machines giving off beeping noises from all over the room. There were a couple of 'what does that do's at first, but Tony eventually gave up on trying to make conversation.

"Can we take a lunch break?" He asked, tossing Bruce the ball.

"Don't you need to do something in order to take a break from it?" Bruce raised an eyebrow. The ball whizzed past him and knocked a couple of beakers off of a table. They shattered as they hit the floor. "Shit, Tony!"

"Oops?" Tony said sheepishly.

"You're paying for those," Bruce sighed and grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair. He nodded towards the door.

"I pay for everything," Tony chuckled. He followed Bruce out.

"What are you in the mood for?" The billionaire asked.

The beauty of New York City was that anything you can hope and dream for was most likely in walking distance. Tony didn't usually walk, however. 'Why walk when you can not walk' was his reason for hiring a driver. Bruce did like to walk, however, so he put up with it for the meanwhile.

"You talking to me some more about last night, I was hoping," Bruce replied. They pushed past crowds of tourists, ignoring whispers amongst the group like 'is that ironfist?' and 'maybe thats his personal assistant'.

"Y'know, I'm kind of feeling cheeseburgers right now, but I just had some for dinner a couple of nights ago and repeating meals in the same week just isn't my style," Tony said.

"Tony-"

"What about Mexican? I could go for something spicy, y'know, clean out the sinuses-"

"Tony, stop. I know I said I'm not that kind of doctor, but that doesn't mean that I can't tell when something's wrong," Bruce grabbed his shoulders. "We both know that you want to talk to me about this, but you're either too scared or you don't know how. I don't know which one it is, but I'm begging ya' here. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

People shoved them as they walked by, muttering things about them deciding to stop in the middle of the walkway to have a heart-to-heart. Tony bit his lip, then opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it.

"I haven't had Chinese in awhile," He said eventually, his voice barely above a whisper. Bruce let go of his shoulders, giving him a light push.

"Chinese it is, then," His friend shrugged, gesturing for him to lead the way. Tony pretended not to understand that Bruce had told him to walk ahead of him because they were approaching a busy street, and the 'Don't Walk' sign had just lit up as bright as a Christmas tree.

* * *

Once they got back to the tower, Bruce suggested that Tony take an extended break from his supervision, and Tony accepted reluctantly. On the way back to his floor, his phone rang. He answered it as the elevator doors dinged open.

"Hey, Pep," Tony smiled, sinking into the couch.

"Hey, how're things over there?" Pepper asked, "Please tell me you didn't set anything on fire. And we're not even going to talk about how ridiculous it is that I have to begin a conversation by asking that."

"No, no," He chuckled, "I didn't set anything on fire yet. And we don't have to talk about how boring it is that I had to answer that with no, either." They both laughed at that.

"I miss you, Tony," She said.

"I miss you too," He felt like a teenage girl, holding onto every last word.

"Good thing I'll be home in two days, and maybe then we could make a few sparks fly."

"Oh, god, Pepper that was so bad, like horrible," Tony shook his head.

"Was it?" She said, "Well, I tried."

"A for effort."

"Thanks. How are you feeling?" Pepper's voice shifted to a more serious tone. "Before I left you were a bit anxious, I remember. You doing any better?"

"To be honest, Pep, I'm not really sure what's going on inside of my head right now. All I know is that I miss you and that someone seriously referred to me as ironfirst today, like really, he straight up asked his friend if I was ironfist, what kind of-"

"Do you need me to come home early?"

"Would I like you to, yes, but I don't need you to. Where you're needed is in San Diego for two more days," Tony said, "I'll be okay here, promise."

"Alright, hon. Call me if something comes up that Iron Fist can't handle."

"Haha, very funny."

"I'll talk to you later, okay? Go do some tinkering or something to keep you busy," Pepper said, "I love you."

"Can do. Love ya' too, Peps."

* * *

"Sir, Mr. Rogers is approaching," Jarvis's voice sounded throughout Tony's workshop, startling the genius.

"Okie dokie," He lifted up his goggles and turned to face the door just as Steve opened it. "Good evening, Mr. Rogers. I've been expecting you."

"Wait, really?" Steve looked puzzled.

"No, I haven't. 10th Bond movie, put it on your list," Tony said, "Now, what did you want before I kicked you out."

"I wanted to tell you that Bruce identified the substance, and though an origin is unknown, the same substance was found in Vermont. Thor, Sam, Bruce and I are heading out there tonight with a couple of SHIELD agents."

"Great, go team, but what does that have to do with me?" Tony raised and eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"You seem to have forgotten that you're apart of this team, Stark. You're just as valuable as the rest of us," Steve said, "I don't know where your head's been recently, but I need you to fall back on this one. Stay here."

"Oh, please, did Bruce put you up to this?"

"Dr. Banner and I did talk, yes, but-"

"This is bullshit, Cap, and you know."

"Tony, I don't think your problems lie in stress or missing your gal. They're way deeper than that. Natasha and Clint are on their way back here now. You can help them with more research, and you can meet us up there if push comes to shove," Steve's eyes never met Tony's.

"You don't control me, Steve," Tony stood. "You seem to have forgotten that Captain may be apart of your name, but it doesn't give you authority over my decisions."

"But it does give me authority over this team and anyone on it," Steve said, "Would you rather me give you time to breathe for awhile, or tell Fury that your mental instability is endangering your work ethic?"

Tony's eyes darted to the floor, and his breathing slowed. He hadn't even noticed that his breathing had picked up in the first place.

"Stark, we're on your side," Steve added before walking away

Tony threw the first thing he could find at the door when Steve closed it behind him. The wrench clattered to the ground. Soon, all the tools on his belt found their way to the floor as well.

"Sir, is everything okay?" Jarvis asked.

"Peachy," Tony replied, playing a game of darts with a box of screwdrivers, and then kicking a couple of carts over, spilling bolts and nuts all across the floor. He spotted a box cutter underneath all of the bolts.

"Jarvis, lock that door," Tony demanded, clearing a space in the middle of the floor.

"Sir, may I add that I don't think this is the best of your ideas?"

"No."

The door clicked.

* * *

A/N: This is essentially where the story actually starts. The rest was kind of just a build up. Thanks to all the reviews, favorites, and follows. Hope you enjoyed so far, and will enjoy what's coming next.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony dabbed repeatedly at his leg with a grease-splotched rag, though the blood didn't seem to stop flowing. He pressed down on the rag. No change. He had realized that he needed stitches the second he made the deepest cut. A part of him was just hoping that he could magically fix it himself.

He groaned, wrapping the rag around the deepest wound. It hurt too much to pull his pant leg down, but he managed to roll down the other one.

"Jarvis, what time is it?" Tony's voice was low and rough; hardly recognizable by himself.

"22:34, sir," Jarvis replied, "And if I may add, the closest hospital is half a mile away."

Tony had no intention of going to the hospital, but he saw no point in telling the A.I. that. There were a lot of things about Tony Stark that the media would eat up, and he'd be damned if he let his stress relief tactic be one of them. He knew it wasn't safe, and it was unorthodox, and so much could go wrong, but it seemed to be the only thing that worked for him.

Worked against what, however, was the mystery. Cap was right; his problems were so much more than missing Pepper or being stressed out. All the genius really knew was that sometimes he couldn't breathe, and sometimes he didn't _want_ to breathe. But Tony wasn't suicidal, of course. He defined suicidal as wanting to die, whereas he was quite the opposite; he didn't want to live occasionally.

The blood had begun to soak through the cloth, and he cringed at the thought of going to get help. The simple thought of all the judgmental looks he would receive was enough to speed up his pulse. Tony breathed in and out on counts of four-a trick that Pepper had taught him.

"I gotta get out of here," He said, pushing himself off of the floor. Drops of blood dotted the area around where he'd been sitting. Tony limped towards the door, pushing boxes out of the way and stepping on tools. He jiggled the door knob. "Jarvis, open the goddamn door!"

"Sir, where are you going?"

"I," He started, catching his breath, "I don't know, just open the fucking door," The last couple of words came out sounding like sobs. He punched the glass door again and again, though his knuckles only made a dent. He pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. "Please, just...please."

The door clicked, and Tony pushed it open.

He got to the end of the hallway before collapsing to his knees. Blood was beginning to drip down his leg, and he couldn't tell if the room was spinning because he was losing too much blood or because he felt an anxiety attack coming on.

He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. The breathing exercise had gone to waste, and he found himself breathing once per second.

"Stark!" He heard a muffled yell. Everything physically felt blurry, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. The world seemed to slow down for a bit. He opened his eyes to see Natasha running towards him, but even she looked to be moving in slow motion. "Stark, what happened? You're bleeding like hell."

"What?" He slurred the question, shaking his head. "Wha-what are you doing?"

She pulled out a black smart phone, and pushed a couple of buttons before pressing it to her ear. She tilted her head to the right, trapping the phone between her head and her shoulder, freeing her hands. The rag brushed against his torn skin as she removed it, causing Tony to groan.

"N-no ambulances, no h-hospital," He slapped at her hands.

"No hospitals, I promi-Clint, yeah hi, problem," She spoke into the phone and went back to work on inspecting the wound. "I need you to get a kit from Bruce's room, and get down here immediately," Tony flinched again as she stuck her hand over top of the wound and pressed down. "Yeah, that one hallway down by his workshop. Hurry." Natasha lifted her head and let the phone drop to the ground.

"Why are you," Tony couldn't remember what he was going to say after that.

"Steve called. Asked us to check in on you periodically when we got back," She placed her free hand underneath his chin and lifted it up to eye level, "Of course, this isn't what I expected. You did this yourself, didn't you?"

Tony didn't answer her. There wasn't much he could have said. He could've lied, but the previous scars that had barely even healed yet were all the evidence she needed. He let his chin drop back to his chest.

"Here," Clint yelled, turning the corner. He walked quickly, carrying a large white box underneath arm. "I'm here."

"Thank you," Natasha grabbed the box from him once he was close enough. "Apply pressure for me."

Clint leaned on the large cut with both his hands as Nat dug through the box. She threw the box to the side when she finally found a suture needle and thread.

"Tony, this is going to hurt like hell, okay?" She lifted his head up again. He nodded, biting his lip.

Clint looked taken aback as he finally noticed all of the smaller, fresh slashes that surrounded the large wound. Not to mention the newly scabbed ones beneath those. He glanced at Natasha, who shook her head as she removed his hands from the wound and sterilized it. A small yelp escaped from Tony's lips, his body squirming. He was still hyperventilating.

"You ready?" She asked Tony.

"Is that," He breathed heavily, "a t-trick q-q-question?"

"I'm gonna give you a countdown," She said, and Tony nodded. "5...4...3-"

She punctured his skin then, and Clint held the man's shoulders back against the wall. Screams erupted from the genius as he struggled to catch his breath.

"How's Pepper, have you talked to her recently?" Clint asked. "She'll be home soon, yeah? Imagine that. You guys can have a nice dinner, and she can tell you funny stories about how a waiter fucked up her order in San Diego, or how much she missed you and didn't stop thinking about you once."

Tony yelled again, and Natasha nodded at Clint to keep going. He gripped the billionaire tighter, and turned his head away from the stitches.

"Look at me, buddy. Just look at me," He smiled at Tony. "you like Black Sabbath, right? On the way back, Nat had on the classic rock radio station and this one song called Wishing Well came on. I knew absolutely none of the words, but I bet you do. It was a cool song. Sing it for me?"

"Th-throw me a penny," Tony's voice was shaky, "and I-I'll m-make you a dream."

"Yeah, that's it! That's the song." Clint said.

"You find that life's not always what it seems," He continued, his words still slurred and hard to get out.

"Then think of a rainbow and I'll make it come real," Natasha sang softly as she pierced Tony's skin with the needle, eliciting a loud grunting noise.

"Roll me, I'm a never ending wheel," Tony managed to croak.

"I'll give you a star, so you know just where you are," Natasha pierced him for the last time, and he yelled, groaning towards the end. "All done."

Clint helped Tony stand after Natasha wrapped the wound and rolled down his pant leg. He hopped on one foot down the hall, one arm from both agents wrapped around him.

"Thanks," Tony Stark said to the two agents. He kept his eyes on the floor.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the short chapters. I've been really busy lately and I just didn't want to keep you guys waiting. Basically shit's getting real now. Expect to see a major plot development soon. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for the number of kind reviews and follows/favorites. I really appreciate it. Tell me what you think, please xx


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

* * *

Tony's bed sheets were a wreck. They were twisted and balled up; spiraling along both of his legs and across his chest. Natasha and Clint watched him sleep. The two of them were sprawled out on their own chairs. Neither of them had actually agreed to watching over Tony, but it was more of an unspoken kind of thing.

The genius sweated immensely in his sleep. The tank top he'd been wearing when they put him to bed had slowly soaked, along with one of the pillows beneath his head. Occasionally he'd moan, or shake his head, and one of them would get up to make sure he was okay. They took turns checking like a married couple with a newborn baby.

"I think he's in pain," Clint nodded towards Tony after one of his loud grunts. The marksman's legs were dangling over one armrest, and his head was propped up against the other one.

"Of course he is," Natasha shrugged, "even so, we can't do anything about it till he wakes up. Then we can give him an ibuprofen or something."

Natasha slouched in her chair, bringing her feet up to rest beside her. She leaned against the arm of the chair, placing her head in the crook of her elbow. She looked over at Tony. He tossed and turned, his back arching a little and falling back with a growl. She bit her lip and shook her head at the genius.

"Dumbass," She whispered, barely audible.

"Can we talk about this now?" Clint asked, hearing what she had said.

"Talk about what?" She muttered into her arm.

"You know what."

"No, I don't, Clint. I have no idea what you're talking about," Natasha said.

"Are we seriously going to do this, Nat? He's sick," Clint spoke in a loud whisper, "he's sick and he needs help. He tried to kill himself, for christs sake!"

"No, he didn't," Natasha paused, "It's harder to find a major vein in your leg. If he wanted to die, he would have chosen his wrists."

"Is this us talking about it?"

"Purely hypothetical."

"I'll take it," Clint sat up and swung his feet over the armrest, placing them gently on the floor. He pressed his hands together as if to pray, and rested his chin in the space between his thumb and index finger. "So he just, uh, cuts himself?"

"Seems like it," Nat sat up as well.

"I dated a girl who did that kind of thing."

"High school?"

"Nah, I was 29, I think. Wasn't so much of dating as it was, well, you know," Clint scratched the back of his head, and Natasha raised an eyebrow. "But anyway, she refused to stop. Said it helped her feel better. Haven't seen her since December of 2000. Dunno if she ever did stop."

"Sorry to hear that," Natasha said.

"Not as sorry as I am," Clint looked up at her. Tony grunted suddenly, and both of the agents turned their attention towards him. He was clutching his leg and scratching rapidly. "He's gonna mess with the stitches."

"I know," She sighed and rushed over to grab his wrists and pin him down. She shushed him, not letting go of him. "You're okay, Stark. You're just fine."

Tony's body relaxed. Natasha sat on the edge of his bed, wiping the sweat off of his face and neck with a towel from the night stand. His breathing was even for the first time that night.

"He doesn't trust us," Natasha said, tossing the towel back on the stand, "he wouldn't talk to us anyway."

"I know that, Nat. I know that. But we need to tell someone about this. Fury, Coulson, Hill-somebody at SHIELD needs to know. What if something happens in the field?" Clint rubbed his temples with his index fingers.

"We take orders from both Fury and Cap, and right now it's Cap's orders that we're under. We report to him with this and him only," Natasha shifted on the bed.

"But what does Cap plan on doing? Giving him a heart to heart?"

"I trust him."

"I do too, but this can't happen again. This can't be a regular thing. 'Oh, tony cut himself up again and is barely conscious, but what's a Friday night without sewing up a billionaire, am I right?'. He needs the kind of help that we can't give him." Clint said.

"I understand what he needs, but right now getting him that will not only destroy Tony Stark's reputation, but Iron Man's as well. So if we take that road, he might get better, but we'd also be taking away literally everything that means anything to him, which will kill him anyway," Her voice was starting to escalate. "And that's not even the half of it. You know how SHIELD works, Clint. They've seen the amount of power Stark possess, and all the technology he has. If he's not with him, he's a threat. So go ahead, Agent Barton. Give Fury a call."

"You're right, you're right," Clint exhaled loudly. "But what about someone that's not apart of SHIELD?"

"Who?"

"James Rhodes. They're like best friends, right?"

"Yeah, but I think he's somewhere in the middle east on assignment," Natasha replied.

"Oh, wait, Pepper! Someone's gotta tell Pepper."

"You really think that she's married to the guy and doesn't know what's going on?" Natasha said.

"Maybe not to this extent. I'll pull her aside when she gets back, and you can give Steve a call in the morning." Clint suggested.

The marksman leaned over and shook Natasha's free hand. Her other was still wrapped around Tony's right wrist. The room was silent for awhile. The agents listened to Tony breathe as well as the soft ticking of his expensive watch that lay on the nightstand. Clint checked his phone to see '3:42 AM' flash across the screen in large letters.

"Do you think they found anything up there?" Nat said eventually.

"Hopefully. Jersey sure was a waste of time."


	5. Chapter 5

Count to Ten:

Chapter 5

* * *

Tony awoke to find Clint laying flat on the bed beside him, which caused him to raise an eyebrow in confusion. He was courteous enough to allow Iron Man all of the pillows, however. Tony scanned the room for any sign of Natasha, but eventually came up empty. He soon noticed the glass of water on the nightstand beside him, along with a paper cup containing two circular pills. Ignoring the water, he downed the pills with a hard swallow. His throat was immensely dry from all of the yelling and heavy breathing he had been doing the night before. He changed his mind about the water.

The billionaire then poked at the gauze that had been wrapped around his stitches, somehow convincing himself prior to doing so that it wouldn't hurt anymore. Though he rarely was, he was most certainly wrong that time, and the throbbing of his thigh caused him to release a quick 'ow'.

Tony kept working around the gauze, still. He wanted to see how bad the cut was. The memories he had from the night before were definitely there, but the images were a little fuzzy for him. He figured that if he were to see the cut that he'd made that night, it would somehow bring the feeling back to him of when he'd just pressed down with the box cutter. Somehow remember exactly how good it felt, and be able to decide if that feeling was good enough to ruin everything he had created for himself.

The two agents would surely tell Steve about the incident, there was no doubt in Tony's mind about that. Steve would give up on him and turn him into Fury, who would take away all of his credentials. They might be able to keep it on the down low, but the public's going to wonder when a perfectly happy, healthy billionaire suddenly decides to stop helping civilians. Pepper would leave him, for sure.

When Tony finally got the gauze off, he couldn't help but feel a little sick to his stomach. The cuts he had made surely felt good, but they didn't look it. The large one was vertical; starting at the top of his thigh and making its way to a little before the middle. It was wide, even with stitches, and still swollen and red. He traced the length of it for awhile before finally pressing down and gasping at the sudden pain. It hurt like a bitch, but suddenly memories of the feeling he'd received from the cut as he first made it came back, and he just knew. It was worth it.

A hand reached over and wrapped itself around Tony's wrist, slowly leading it away from his leg. Tony looked to his left to see Clint frowning at him, shaking his head.

"Don't do that. You'll make it worse," Clint said. He placed Tony's hand on the bed, and sat up to fix the gauze. "Did Nat leave you some pain killers?"

Tony nodded in reply, holding up the empty paper cup from the nightstand. He sat still as Clint wrapped the gauze like an expert; fast and secure. He thought of how much experience the marksman must have had to be that proper about dressing wounds.

"Don't walk on that until we get you some crutches. You'll probably bust those stitches right back open, and Nat'll have to kick your ass," Clint said when he noticed Tony preparing to get out of bed.

"Well I _have_ always been into BDSM," Tony wiggled his eyebrows and Clint chuckled. Hawkeye sat cross-legged to the left of him.

"You know, you've got a lot of people who care about you, Tony," He playfully punched the billionaire's shoulder.

"Who _doesn't_ care about me, that's the question."

"I'm serious, Stark. People who care about your well being. Everyone on this team wants to help you," Tony bit his lip.

"Where's the spider?" He asked. "I thought it was the early bird that caught the worm, not the insanely attractive arachnids."

"Are you really going to ignore me?" Clint sighed.

"Why the hell are you even in my bed, Barton? I'm all for the right to play on that team, but I'm not actually one of the players there buddy."

"Tony, will you stop avoiding this topic for one fucking second so I can talk to you as if you're a normal adult instead of a baby in constant need of supervision?" Clint yelled. The room was silent after that, except for the soft beeping of car horns that could be heard from the streets below.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, okay?" Tony found himself saying. He had no intentions of talking to the agent about what had been going on, but his vocal chords betrayed him.

"That's…" Clint nodded, running his fingers through his hair. "That's a start."

"What else do you want me to say?"

"Tell me why you hurt yourself last night. And the every single time before then."

"I don't know," Tony shook his head.

"Bullshit. You always know," Clint said.

"Because it feels good, I guess."

"Hell yeah it does, but that's not the reason," Clint pushed.

"I really don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"Clint, I don't-"

"Yes, you do."

"I'm serious, I don't-"

"This is all off the record, Tony. I swear. A friend talking to a friend, not an agent collecting intel," Clint offered.

"That's good to know, really, but I can't talk to you because I don't know why. It just feels good," Tony leaned back against his headboard. "And I haven't felt good in a long time."

They listened to the cars honk for a bit. Tony purposely got every other room in the building soundproofed except his bedroom. The sounds of humanity helped him sleep at night. They reminded him that there were other people in the world, and that he would never be alone, though he would somehow always be lonely.

"You know you have to stop, right?" Clint spoke after several minutes.

"Do I? It's all over now. I fucked up, and there's no going back. That's not really an incentive to stop, is it?" Tony asked.

"You remind me a lot of someone, Tony. I-She didn't want to stop either. Told me and everyone around her that her life already sucked and couldn't get any worse, so she saw no point in letting people take away the thing that made her feel better." Clint told him.

"Is there a moral to this story, or are you trying to help my argument?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"She pushed everyone away, eventually. Well, the ones who didn't leave on their own. She spent so much time arguing that her life was already over that she didn't notice that there was still a canyon beneath the so-called rock bottom," Clint tugged at his sleeve, pulling them down further and over his thumbs. "She cut too deep one night, and was rushed to the emergency room. God, there was so much blood. As she slipped in and out of consciousness, you could tell that suddenly her fucked up, rock bottom of a life didn't seem as bad as she thought, and she was nowhere near ready to die."

"Where is she now?" Tony asked.

"I dunno, I haven't seen her in a very long time."

"I'd like to think she's doing okay," Tony said.

Clint bit his lip and nodded, "I'd like to think so too," He said. "But basically what I'm trying to say is that you are never at rock bottom. I don't believe in it. There will always be bigger shovels or in this case, razors that will dig you farther into a hole that wasn't even that deep to begin with," Clint said.

"Well I think we can both agree that I made that hole a helluva lot deeper last night," Tony chuckled.

"That's okay," Clint smiled, "I used to be a rock climbing instructor."

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A/N: Sorry that the chapter couldn't be longer; once again this is just to hold you all over. Thank you so much for all the reviews and favorites/follows. I literally internally scream every time I get one, and I externally scream every time I get a review. I love reviews. But, anyway, thank you for reading this chapter and all of the chapters so far. I think I'm aiming at this being a 15 chapter story, but it could be a little more or a little less. The next couple will be extra long though to make it up to you guys for every single one being short (and moderately shitty. you'd think for a kid who goes to a school for writing, this would be a lot better). Once again, no slash or romance intended, but read into this chapter as you will. The rest of the team should be back in the next chapter or the one after that, for those of y'all missing Cap and Bruce. Have a great day! xx


	6. Chapter 6

Count to Ten:

Chapter 6

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Natasha drummed her fingers on the bar top, not taking her eyes off of the cracked iPhone for a second. The screen had shattered from her tossing it to the side the night before, and she hadn't had a chance to get it fixed yet. The crack began in the top left-hand corner, and spread to the center of the screen. The phone was usable, but incredibly annoying to look at for the spy. Still, she kept her eyes on it until the screen lit up and the name 'Stevie Boy' finally popped up at the top (accompanied by a few american flag emojis), and she quickly slid her finger across the bottom of the phone.

"Cap," She greeted him, "You guys find anything?"

"Uh, define finding anything."

"As in anything significant to the case? Unless you somehow found yourself and turned this into some kind of soul searching trip. Bruce I had pegged for that type, maybe even Sam, but I mean maybe this is good for you," Natasha said.

Cap chuckled lightly, "Well, I can't say for sure that we've found anything significant, but a couple of agents that Coulson rounded up talked to the locals and they definitely have some information that's worth looking into."

"This case is going nowhere."

"Don't say that. Have a little faith there, Nat. We're all working our hardest and something will turn up," He paused, and Natasha could hear the soft crackling of the phone line along with his harsh breaths. She concluded that he must have been talking to her from outside in the cold. "Did you, uh, did anything happen last night with Stark?"

"Was waiting for you to ask that."

"Does that mean no?"

"No, it means nothing, but the answer is yes. Found him all cut up down the hall from his workshop. Clint helped me get him all stitched up, and he's upstairs with him now I think," Natasha said, her eyes darting towards the elevator.

"Jesus Christ," Steve practically breathed out as opposed to speaking. "Jesus freaking Christ."

"Cap, he's okay now. Don't worry."

"No, just-jesus. I did this, he did this because I told him he had to stay," Natasha heard a loud bang coming from Steve's side. "Freaking-frick, I threatened him, I made him do that to himself."

_Bang._

_Bang._

_Bang._

"Steve, hey, Steve what's going on?" Nat asked, "What's that noise?"

"I should have just stayed out of it, right? Left him alone?" Steve asked.

_Bang._

"Steve, I need you to calm down," Natasha said. She finally realized that the banging noises she was hearing were the sounds of his fists crashing against some kind of metal, "You did the right thing. Nobody knew that he was this depressed and now we do, thanks to you."

"How the heck am I supposed to lead this team if I can't…" He paused, "If I can't even figure out how to help one of my own men?"

"I don't know-" Natasha started.

"Fuck!" Steve yelled, followed by several banging noises. Nat winced at the sound, and at the fact that she had never heard Captain America use such language.

"I trust you though, Steve. I trust everything you're doing and I know it's for the best. We'll work this out somehow."

"I think I needed to hear that," The soldier panted, "Alright, alright, I'm good. I'm okay."

"Good. We can talk about this Tony thing later. Go take a chill pill first," Natasha advised.

"Okay."

"First, tell me that wasn't a civilian's car that you were punching. Wouldn't want 'Captain America Intentionally Destroys Innocent's Vehicle' to go viral, would we?"

"Go what?"

* * *

There was a certain sound that Tony Stark had memorized. The sound of heels clacking against tile floor, and wheels on a suitcase whizzing not too far behind. That sound often kept him grounded. It could have woken him up out of the deepest of sleep, or numbed his pain better than anything that could come out of an orange bottle.

Clint had gone out to get breakfast for the both of them, and Tony's heart fluttered with anticipation as he awaited the sound of Pepper returning. He'd refused to call her, and refused to allow her to call him. In his mind, it ruined the sound when he knew when it was coming.

However, the billionaire hadn't thought about an excuse for the stitches, or even if he wanted to come up with an excuse. If he was going to tell the truth, he surely didn't know how. There were a few times where he'd gotten so stoned or wasted that he'd ended up too close to the edge of the roof. When he was feeling especially flighty, he'd step up so close that if the wind blew picked up he'd be a goner for sure. Pepper was always there, yelling at him to stop being an idiot and come hug her. They'd laugh about it once he'd stumble back to into her arms, but he swore he could feel her body tremble as she held him.

"Jarvis," Tony paused, "I need you to keep Pepper off of this floor when she gets back."

"But sir, Ms. Potts has override privileges."

"Revoke them for today, will ya'?" Tony asked, and as always, the AI delivered.

It wasn't anything personal to Pepper. He cursed himself for doing it, he did, but he needed time to think. And though he'd given anything too see her, he'd given anything and a half not to feel her body tremble like that anymore.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Pepper, I'm a mess and I really hope you don't leave me," he whispered to himself, shaking his head. His eyes popped open after hearing his own words, and he felt a frown on his face.

"_Well aren't you an asshole," A scrawny, pale boy smirked at him. He had blond hair that looked as if it hadn't been washed in days, yet gray eyes that seemed to have been washed so often they were stipped of all color. The two sat on a small stone bridge in the middle of the park, their feet dangling over the edge above the shallow water. _

"_I know," Tony flashed him a smile._

"_Want a smoke?" The boy reached into the pocket his brown slacks and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He took one and tossed the pack to Tony before reaching back into his pocket to dig around for a lighter. The boy brought the lighter up to the cigarette between his own and Tony's lips and lit them with the small flame. _

"_Thanks," Tony nodded towards him. He tried his best to hold in a cough when first inhaling, but failed almost immediately and was sent into a coughing spell._

"_You don't smoke, do you Stark?" The boy gave him a cheeky grin._

"_I do now," Tony said between coughs, and they both laughed._

"_Don't do that, though. Like, don't do things because I do them." He turned to face Tony, his cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth._

"_I don't. I mean, I won't. But why not?"_

"_Because I don't do good things."_

"_Thomas, if I wanted to do good things then I'd go start a Howling Commandos Part 2 or something. I like hanging out with you, fuck-face." Tony nudged him._

"_Cool," Thomas nodded with the faintest of smiles. "If I show you something, are you gonna freak out?"_

"_Probably. But you should show me anyway because you obviously want to."_

"_Fair enough," Thomas threw his cigarette into the water beneath their feet, and slowly took off his corduroy jacket. _

"_What the-" Tony gazed at the dozens of small cuts the ran up and down Thomas's arms. There were several burns, too, that looked around the size that a cigarette would make. "What the fuck?"_

"_There are a lot more, but I'm not taking off my pants for you," Thomas shrugged._

"_Bud, what are you doing to yourself?"_

"_It's not as bad as it seems. It helps a lot when I'm feeling kind of down."_

"_That's fucking insane," Tony shook his head, coughing from the cigarette smoke._

"_Yeah, yeah. I know"_

"_So why'd you want to show me?"_

"_I guess this is sorta me telling you that I'm messed up, and asking you not to leave," Thomas looked him in the eyes._

"_We're all a little messed up, man," Tony punched Thomas playfully, and they both smiled. Thomas kept his jacket off the rest of the day, and Tony pretended not to notice to constellations on his friend's arms._

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A/N: This chapter wasn't as long as I promised, but oh well, sue me. I've been incredibly busy recently and I finally found time to write this. Don't hate me please, I just wasn't designed for writing long chapters. I hope you enjoyed this, though. Let me know what you thought in a review. Thanks so much for all the favorites/follows (I hit 50 followers a bit ago, so thanks so much), and as to my reviewers, thank you so much. The feedback and support is fantastic and so amazing. Someone mentioned that I write self harm very well, so thanks! And to answer their question, I don't believe people should write about tough things like this if they don't have first hand experience, so yeah, I do sadly. Have a great day, and thanks for reading! xx


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